


Profiler

by veronamay



Series: FBI!Jensen 'Verse [5]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Federal Agent, Gen, Prequel, Serious Injuries, Stab Wound, Timestamp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-12-08
Updated: 2007-12-08
Packaged: 2017-11-27 21:26:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/666662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veronamay/pseuds/veronamay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Timestamp: set two weeks prior to Always By The Book. Jensen POV.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Profiler

Man, Jensen hated the psychos. He dealt with a lot of crazy in this job, but every now and then there was a special brand of fucked up that crossed his desk and made him lose sleep on a permanent basis. He'd known this was one of those cases the minute he opened the file, and things hadn't changed when he started building the profile.

The perp had a yen for killing authority figures and leaving them in degrading sexual positions in public areas close to the victims' place of work. It was most likely a single white female (fuck, he hated that movie), aged between twenty-five and forty, in a well-paid, stable job that she hated and a supervisor who was less talented and/or capable than herself. The psychology wasn't hard to figure out; nor was the perp's mindset, given her choice of calling card. White roses were about as clichéd as you could get. None of that had Jensen worried; none of that was the reason he was currently gritting his teeth and calling himself and his superiors a dozen types of fool.

_Next time_ , he thought sourly, _when they tell you to hold a press conference to bring the perp into the open, do yourself a favour and tell them 'no'._

The perp was in the open, all right. As in, she was actually _at_ the press conference, which ended in a hurry when one of the reporters dropped her microphone and drew a knife out of nowhere, dragging Jensen off the stage and doing her best to saw him in half. The cops on crowd control were useless; they were busy dodging the fleeing media and various hangers-on, and couldn't get a clear shot. Jensen fell hard to the ground and felt his ribs crack. He rolled to the left, feeling a current of air pass over as the perp swung at him again, and stifled a groan of pain as he staggered to his feet.

"What's the matter, honey?" he drawled, circling away to the right. "Did I hit a sore spot with the whole 'mentally unbalanced' thing?"

"Screw you, asshole," she snarled, dark hair tangled around her face. Her neat green suit was torn and smudged, blouse ripped half open from their struggles. "You got no fuckin' clue."

"Oh, I think I've got a few," Jensen said. "Let me guess: Daddy didn't treat you right, Mommy didn't care, your high school boyfriend wouldn't take no for an answer? Your boss is a dick, your lover's cheating on you, but hey, instead of trying therapy you decided to kill people instead." He raised an eyebrow. "Am I getting warm?"

"Shut up," she demanded, eyes wide and unfocused. "It's not like that, you don't know! You ... nobody knows, it's not me, it's—"

She fell silent, confused, and for the barest of moments Jensen felt sorry for her. She was obviously pretty well messed up, and as soon as they got her in custody she'd be in treatment for the rest of her _life_ , but at least she wasn't sane. It was the sane ones that scared him.

Then she _threw the fucking knife at him_ , and Jensen doubled over as fiery pain erupted in his gut. He heard a shot as he went down, and glimpsed her body slumping to the ground exactly like him, only he was probably going to live through this.

He kind of wished he knew her name. He'd make it a point to find out, after he woke up.


End file.
